Room For Teeth & The End Times

At least once or twice a week, I somehow manage to bite the inside of my own mouth.  How does this still regularly happen in 2008?  Clearly, I am not a proponent or believer in evolution between the species, but you would think that enough time has passed that a being with opposable thumbs and the creativity required to develop TiVo would be able to suck on a pear-flavored jelly bean without molar-grinding the back of his tongue.  I suppose that's one of the early and frequent indicators that we are still a flawed species in desperate need of redemption.  If people didn't bite their own tongues, would they still realize their fallen state?  I mean, every time I'm in a public place and I gnaw myself and my head shoots up in pain like somebody tazed me in the neck, I think, "this is NEVER going to happen when I get my resurrection body!"

Now, speaking of that, I've been preaching through Revelation 2-3 for the last several weeks.  Apparently, it's a popular text in light of what's going on in the world.  One of my heroes, David Jeremiah, has even recently published a book on the topic and has gone so far as to say that he believes the end times will culminate in his lifetime.  Obviously, no one knows because Scripture says so.  But, there is no question that Christ could come back at any moment, and recent events seem to be pointing in that direction.  I mean, the United States banking system has essentially been nationalized & I almost bit through my left cheek today while savoring a Memphian sandwich at McAllister's.  Oh yeah, interesting times, they are-a-comin'... 

Sunday Morning Locker Room

I love Sunday mornings.  I mean I LOVE Sunday mornings.  Now, before you think I'm getting all Hallmark-ish about seeing sweet people in lace collars, that's not what I'm getting at (as lovely as that is).  I love the routine of getting up earlier than any other day of the week.  I love driving to Starbucks with my moon roof open so that I can see the stars overhead.  I love the cool air whipping in.  I love listening to Eddie Kirkland's "Lift Up Your Heads" and Todd Fields' "Let Me Sing" so loudly that it affects my ability to make clear decisions.  I love worshipping.  I mean I love having palms open & crying like a 7th-grade break-up victim and then trying to look cool to the barista with my red eyes and crackly voice. "Uh, yeah, I'd like a really strong straight black coffee cuz I'm a stud American male who doesn't cry or anything like that so...um, where's the cinnamon?"

I guess this is what professional athletes experience in their pre-game.  This is euphoria.  I can't wait to do what I've been called to do.  Can you imagine that level of fulfillment?  God doesn't have to allow me this level of joy, and yet He does.  He's good.  It's a simple blessing, but it strokes my core.  I get to go to church having already experienced Him in joy.  Then, I can focus on loving others and not what "church can do for me."  Ironically, I get more out of church that way!

Can't type anymore; "Bless The Lord" by Laura Story is confusing my keystrokes.  I love Sundays.

Garage Sale Ethics

So I just spend the better part of the day trying to convince people that they couldn't live without stuff that I no longer needed or wanted.  And so I ask myself, "is that ethical?"  I mean, it's easy to justify with the whole "one man's garbage is another man's treasure" thing.  But, I mean some of the folks who moseyed down my driveway had more need of a sandwich than a sand wedge.

I happen to be fluent in Spanish, so inevitably, some of our more brunette customers would engage with me in conversation.  After I failed to convince them that they needed a cordless phone that wouldn't hold a charge, they would ask why I spoke Spanish.  I'd explain & then they'd ask me what I did (presumably for a living, not when Tony Romo throws an interception...).  I'd say "pastor" & they'd kinda look at me with this blinking furrowed brow about why I tried to sell them tile remnants.  That's instant cred.

I think the whole garage sale culture is fascinating.  We had the obligatory dealers show up at 5:00 AM (armed with flashlights) and the occasional guy who just happened to be in need of a frayed piece of coax cable.  Maybe this is the last vestige of the village barter system.  Maybe this is why cultures that still have it (including skinned bats strung upside down) have yet to be economic powers.  I'm just sayin'...

I just haggled the sale of a painted white rock.  Made this lady's day.  Another lady brought 722 pound of stuff to the table and it cost her $6.25.  What a deal.  It probably cost me $14,300 new.  What an idiot.

Greek Cuz

So that.

See, there are these great little Greek words that always answer the question "why?"  I love these.  Somewhere in every human (with the exception of that weird guy who plays the villain in Stephen Segal's 'Hard To Kill') is the child-like question "how come?"  The writers of Scripture loved to answer this question.  The words "hina" and "hopose" are awesome because they always explain stuff.  I don't care nearly as much about "what" as I do "why."

OK, like, "why do bad things happen to good people?"  In order that (hina)... stay tuned.

BTW:  This may be the greatest weather of all time ever.  If East Texas keeps this up we'll rival Bangladesh in population.  And we all know how good that would smell.

Starting Out

One of the greatest and most effective spiritual disciplines is journaling.  Spiritual disciplines are not liturgical regulations that you follow so that God is more pleased with your effort.  Spiritual disciplines are practical measures that we can take to place our lives on the proverbial "tee" so that God can stripe us down the fairway toward our destination & purpose.  Any attempt at purpose-driven anything outside the guidance and mystical direction of God will be fraught with frustration & an infuriating lack of fulfillment.

So, this is an attempt at journaling.  In a public sense, because that's where we've come as a culture.  "Hey, look!  An open kimono!"  I'm not a writer, my wife is.  She rolls here eyes at my insistence on using semi-colons when I should probably employ commas.  But, the beauty of this forum is that the grammar police are forever stuck in the linguistic donut shop of futility.  Journaling (now blogging) I believe is a powerful tool for aligning and clarifying the clutter of the mind, and then sharing that experience with someone else who has likely experienced the same foibles in their journey.  That's called community, and done well, it can be very healthy.

Off we go... (somewhere a hairy-footed Sean Aston grabs an equally follicle-blessed Elijah Wood and they set off on their journey).

A new friend named Kem told me yesterday that people no longer ask "what is truth?"  Instead, they ask "what's the point?"  I would agree that our culture has moved in that direction, but would amplify it by saying that we also are most prone to ask, "what will work?"  That drives most of our decisions:  "What's the point; & what will work?"

This is my journey into exploring the Word & mind of an infinite God in an attempt to answer the question "How come!?" with an emphatic and celebratory "So that!"

Giddy up.